


Kiss with a fist

by the_wildcard



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, PTSD, Post boat jail, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6270352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wildcard/pseuds/the_wildcard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac is afraid of his thoughts and urges. Dennis hates himself more than anyone else could. They buy another apartment together. What could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss with a fist

**Author's Note:**

> So we remain the same  
> Blood sticks, sweat drips  
> Break the lock if it don't fit  
> A kick in the teeth is good for some  
> A kiss with a fist is better than none
> 
> IOW Mac and Dennis kiss a little then fucking fight

He thought he was afraid of being gay because of his Catholic faith. Because he was taught growing up in his church that queers will be damned to eternal hell. Who would want that? Who wouldn't fight their entire life to keep that from happening?

When Mac decided God didn't exist, he accepted that he could, and probably, definitely was gay. For a few minutes, it was okay, he felt light and free. Finally he didn't have to restrict himself. Maybe he'd stop hindering himself from doing other things he liked to do. Maybe he'd wear more mesh tank tops, maybe he'd actually go to a karate class or two. And to make it all better, coming out to the gang went much smoother than he could've hoped.

Ten minutes after being locked in boat jail with his friends, he began thinking. And for Mac, that's usually when things start getting out of hand. He still feels unsettled. It felt good saying the words "I'm gay" out loud but in no way does he feel okay with those words. 

Coming out was supposed to make you feel better, right?

During the four hours they were locked in the jail, he tried thinking of ways to take it back. "You and I will be the bottoms." "Why, cause I'm gay." The words sting. Talking about gay sex is uncomfortable, and he decides that if they aren't dying tonight then, yes, he's definitely taking it back. 

 

They don't die. 

Sometimes it's unbearable. He knows he's gay, even if he did take it back. The gang knows, and much to his relief, they never mention it. But when he checks a guy out in a way he thinks is subtle, one of his friends will laugh, and he won't be able to breathe for a moment. 

Sometimes he's thrown back into the metal box that they almost drowned in. He can't breathe, but he's hyperventilating. He's freezing from the cold water pooling around his neck, but his body is sweaty. He feels like he's going to die. But that moment always passes.

And some days it's bearable. Like when Mac and Dennis finally move into their own apartment again. "If we die tomorrow," Dennis had said, "at least we can die knowing we spent our last days living with each other and not Dee." Mac had laughed even though he knew Dennis loved his sister dearly. 

"To us," they clinked their glasses of champagne together, and leaned back in their respective seats at their new kitchen table. 

The apartment they bought is two bedroom, one bathroom, just like the old one. But it's much closer to Paddy's and a bit cheaper than their last one. Perhaps that could be because there's rats in the walls and there's a bad leak in their living room ceiling.

The night they bought their new home was the night they got wasted on champagne, and Mac blames the alcohol on what happened. "You didn't say you loved me," Mac isn't that drunk. He had five glasses of champagne, but that's nothing, especially for them. 

"What?" Dennis narrowed his eyes from across the kitchen table. Mac looks into his glass, hoping to somehow sink into the floor. "Before you went underwater you told Dee you loved her," Mac looks at Dennis, who still seems confused. "If you really don't care about Dee like you say you do, but you still told her you loved her, then you must really hate me." 

Dennis has told Mac that he hates him more than either of them can count. He never meant it, and maybe that's what Mac doesn't understand, and what he never will understand. It isn't something that Dennis can explain. His rage comes and goes, and he can't control it. If that has something with him being diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, he pretends it doesn't. It's easier to pretend it never happened.

"I don't hate you, Mac," he says simply, like it should've been obvious. "I did tell you you were my brother, didn't I?" Mac scowls, and finishes off his glass. "You had an onion in your hand to make you cry," he points out. 

"I still meant what I said," Dennis replies softly. Mac shrugs.

 

The weeks go by so quickly, Mac almost forgot about their near death experience. It's been months since they got an apartment. Macs thirty-ninth birthday is coming up soon. So is Dennis' but they will say it's his thirty-fifth, just like they have the last three years.

"Mac!" Dennis comes into their apartment, sounding happy. Mac comes out of his room more eager than he'd like to admit. "Guess what I bought?" Dennis' grin makes Mac's heart speed up. Whatever his roommate is holding behind his back is gonna be dangerous. Mac grins just as wide. "A dog?"

Dennis groans. 

"No, not a dog, Mac, god damn. Last time I got you a dog, you killed it and fed it to me. How would I be able to hold a dog behind my-" he cuts himself off, feeling himself getting angry. Instead, he shows Mac what's in his hand. It's a large clear bag full of weed. 

It reminds Mac of highschool. How he sold drugs to support his mom when his dad was in jail. Granted, he did get high off his supply occasionally behind the bleachers or behind the dumpsters with Charlie, Dennis, and Dee. The overcharging made up for it. After all, he was the only dealer at their school.

Mac smiles, and extends his hands, making grabby gestures much like an impatient child. Dennis tosses the bag, and Mac catches it. 

"Do you have a pipe?" Mac shakes his head. They stopped smoking regularly a little after high school ended, and his old pipes were back at his mom's before her house burned down. "That's fine, we can just roll it," Dennis starts walking to Mac's room. "Hey, hey, where do you think you're doing?" Dennis stops, "I'm gonna use a page from one of your Bibles?" 

For a moment, Mac considers to try and feign anger. But the weed smells so good and nostalgic that he just shrugs. 

Dennis comes back with a piece of paper, and Mac makes sure not to read which verse is on the paper as he tears it up, rolls it into a blunt, and lights the word of the Lord on fire. He smiles before he's even taken a hit.

When he does it's long and dragged out. He hasn't even seen weed since country Mac visited. The thought of his cousin hurts, but he pushes that pain aside and hands the joint to Dennis. 

They smoke until the joint is gone, and then they roll another. Maybe another, but everything is so blurry, Mac isn't sure. At one point, they run to the kitchen, and Dennis starts pouring them shots. Starts is the key word. Once he's pulled out their jug of whiskey he forgets what he's doing, and leans against the counter in confusion. 

Mac smiles, and pulls out two shot glasses. They sit down in their seats at the table, the only thing in between them are two shot glasses and a whole lot of alcohol. "You know," Dennis starts, while pulling something from his back pocket, "instead of using juice or soda as a chaser, you can take a drag from a cigarette." Mac cringes while pouring them each a shot. He imagines taking a pull from a cigarette after just drinking whiskey. The thought is nauseating. But he's so high, and trusts Dennis enough to do it. 

It isn't bad. However, his judgement is impaired, so his word may not be reliable. "See?" Dennis says, smoke creeping from between his lips. Mac tells himself that's why he's looking at Dennis' lips. He can't even convince himself. "I guess you were right, bro," Mac says, and takes another drag from his cigarette. "Were you even considering I wouldn't be?" Dennis is smiling lazily with his cigarette hanging out of his mouth. 

Mac pours them each another shot, throws his back, and immediately takes a drag. His throat burns and his head hurts and he hopes that tonight doesn't turn bad. But when Dennis stands from his seat, Mac bodes that something has to go wrong. 

It's been decent recently. He should've known. What's the saying? It's always calm before the storm. Dennis is looming over Mac, whose still sitting. The shot glass Mac had prepared him earlier is still full, Dennis downs it and puts his and Mac's cigarette out in the empty glass. "Dennis?"

He doesn't answer. Mac can see his eyes up close now. They're red from smoking, and Mac decides his own eyes can't possibly look any better. Dennis grabs each of Mac's wrists, his touch gentle, which is so out of character, that Mac has to consider that he's imagining this. 

That's why he lets Dennis pull him to their couch, Mac's pressed between the cushions and Dennis' body. He's thankful that he's lying down, because if he was sitting up, his head would be spinning. Because Dennis presses his lips to Mac's and this can't be happening. They're kissing and Mac is smiling. The inside of Dennis' mouth tastes like smoke and alcohol, but Mac never expects anything less.

His hands are touching everything he can reach, or allow himself to reach. They haven't done this in so long, since before the boat. Before he came out. When Dennis grinds their hips together, Mac realizes he isn't imagining this. Fuck. He couldn't come up with that. 

He pushes Dennis a little rougher than needed off of him, and slides off the couch, onto the floor. Dennis is looking at him quizzically, not remotely surprised though. Mac wonders if he was expecting this. "We- we can't do that," Mac doesn't know what he's saying. He wishes he wasn't high so that maybe he could try to explain himself. 

"How is this different than the other times," Dennis asks. "It isn't," Mac replies weakly. "Those times were just as wrong.

"That can't happen again." Dennis sneers. "Again," he echoes, and sets his feet to the floor so that he's sitting properly. 

"You were so wasted, right," Dennis continues. Mac realizes he's still lying on the floor, and stands. "I thought you didn't remember. Either that, or you did a really good job of pretending nothing happened." His tone is mocking. He knows Mac remembers. "I'm talking about you fucking me, if it's not clear."

"It was a mistake, Dennis. You know that." Dennis stands up, as well. The expression on his face is livid, but Mac is determined not to back down. Not this time. "I didn't even like it that much," Mac says quietly. Dennis laughs, almost throwing his head back. 

"You didn't like it? Cause I remember for about five minutes after you were rambling about how 'special' and 'magical' it was. That it was the best you've ever had?" Mac feels his face heat up and he glares. "I also remember, and correct me if I'm wrong," They're about a foot away, and Mac's fists are balled. 

"You said you wished that had lasted forever. God, you really were a talker, huh." Dennis laughs again. "Not even the girls I fuck are that clingy." Mac can't breathe, and so he does the only thing he's ever been good at, and takes a swing. His fist connects with Dennis' jaw. His roommate stumbles backwards, holding a hand to his face. He never falls down, though. 

Mac braces himself for Dennis' inevitable attack. Though it may seem unorthodox, Mac would much prefer Dennis angry and fighting. The nights that Dennis is expressionless, almost empty seeming, those are the worst nights. He'd much prefer a bloody lip, because he knows Dennis will eventually tire himself out. He always does. But when he feels nothing, it stays like that for days, weeks, sometimes months. 

So when Dennis lunges, punching Mac with vigor, Mac takes it, almost gladly. And he, of course, fights back. Soon it turns into a full out brawl, like it always does. Mac karate kicks Dennis in the leg hard enough they both hear a snap that must be his bone breaking. He keeps a straight face and retaliates with a slap that stings. They fight until they're sweating and bleeding all over the wooden floors. Mac thinks that it must be over once he's pretty sure Dennis broke his jaw, but it isn't. 

"Fine, do you want to fucking forget it, Mac." His voice shakes, and even though he sounds angry, Mac thinks he hears something behind the anger. 

Dennis pulls a lighter from his back pocket the same one he used to light their cigarettes. That seems so long ago now. "What are you doing, Dennis?" Mac follows his roommate, who has turned around, grabbed their whiskey from the table, and limped to his bedroom. "Dennis!" Mac yells. Dennis doesn't stop. 

He begins pouring the alcohol on his mattress, and empties the entire bottles contents onto his bedsheets. "Stop, Dennis," Mac's tone is firm. When Dennis turns to look at him, Mac thinks he's going to listen. Instead he grins wolfishly, and Mac takes a small step back. Dennis lowers the lighter to the mattress, and they both watch as it bursts into flames. 

Maybe if Mac was sober he would realize that this is a symbol of their relationship burning. Maybe if he was sober he would grab Dennis' arm and drag him out of their apartment. After all, it won't be long until the fire spreads. Maybe if Mac was sober, he wouldn't slide down the wall next to Dennis and watch the bed slowly burn.

The fire alarms never went off. Turns out they were never turned on, never worked. And that's how Mac and Dennis' apartment had burned down for the third time. Dee almost has another heart attack when they show up on her doorstep at three am, ashes and burns littering their bodies. "Hey, roomy," Dennis says in an animated voice. "We need to go to a hospital," Dennis says, still smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please comment if you liked it.


End file.
